


What the Eye Doesn't See

by Lady_Masquerade



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual friendly, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Multi, No beta we fall like Crowley, Past Violence, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Scarring, Self-indulgent fluff, Talking About the Past, Tattoos, minor angst with a lot of fluff, that's just how this one goes, they're both just soft ok, we hate Gabriel it's The Rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Masquerade/pseuds/Lady_Masquerade
Summary: Post-Armaggedon't, Aziraphale and Crowley are trying to do better for themselves and each other. However, pieces of the past emerge, and Crowley learns more about Aziraphale and his relationship with Heaven.*A quick one-shot I wrote while quarantined, because we all could use some softness in our lives right now.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 119





	What the Eye Doesn't See

**Author's Note:**

> ....the heart doesn't grieve over
> 
> I got the idea for this after seeing the branding prompt WhiteleyFoster posted recently. This story does NOT follow that prompt, but it put a little bug in my brain that I couldn't get rid of. This is the result. Enjoy.

It started, as most conversations tended to these days, in the back of the bookshop. 

“Angel, when did you get a tattoo?” 

Out of all of the things Aziraphale expected to hear, this certainly wasn’t it. Quick as though he had been shocked, the angel plucked at the ends of his right sleeve, covering the spot Crowley had just been eyeing. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Aziraphale said hastily. 

Crowley threw him a look from where he lounged casually across the back room couch. One eyebrow raised, he lowered the glass of scotch that he had been about to take a sip from. 

“Nothing?” Crowley repeated, a skeptical look on his face. 

“Yes, it’s nothing. Absolutely nothing for you to worry about,” Aziraphale said, just a bit too quickly. 

After staring for another couple of seconds, Crowley sighed. He raised the glass and downed the rest of its contents, then sat up. 

“I thought we were done with keeping secrets, angel. You know, new world and all. New us.”

Aziraphale still looked unsure, so Crowley continued. “Come on, you know I’m the last person who’d judge you for a tattoo, of all things,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the snake coiled on his temple. “And it obviously isn’t ‘nothing’ if it’s got you all in a bind,” he finished, gazing pointedly at the angel’s hands. 

Without even realizing, Aziraphale had wound his hands tightly together, his right tucked protectively within the left. It was an old nervous tick of his - old enough that Crowley could see right through it. His sleeve was still pulled up against the back of his hand, further than what would be seen as proper. 

Aziraphale let out a sigh, realizing the demon was right. 

“Alright, yes,” he said, sounding defeated. “I, uh, got a tattoo. It’s nothing special, just, uh, still healing is all.” 

The suspicious way Crowley glanced at him didn’t falter. Aziraphale suddenly couldn’t look him in the eye, absentmindedly continuing to play with the edge of his sleeve. 

“Right. So are you going to show me, or….?” 

With Crowley’s prompting, Aziraphale flushed. This really wasn’t how he wanted this conversation to go, but he was pinned under the demon’s inquisitive gaze. Aziraphale knew that look, and also knew that it wouldn’t be given up until he gave in. 

Aziraphale sighed. 

“It’s, uh, not really anything all that special, just a little something I thought was…..appropriate…” he trailed off. He looked back up, where Crowley was still waiting. Aziraphale huffed, and without further overthinking, let his sleeve fall back and thrust his right hand forward. 

“See? Nothing all that spectacular, just something small to remind me…er, to commemorate the, uh, past-“

“Angel-” Crowley interrupted. 

“-you know, much like your own tattoo, I just thought it would be a nice, uh, thing to have as well-“

“Angel,” Crowley said again, with more force. 

Aziraphale stopped rambling. He couldn’t help it, really. Especially when he was nervous. 

“Yes, dear?” He said softly.

Crowley was holding Aziraphale’s hand gently, softly rubbing across the image with his thumb. His expression was soft, but as though it had been carved from stone. 

“Angel…..this isn’t a tattoo.” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale still couldn’t meet his eyes.  


He said nothing.

The image itself wasn’t very large; it was probably the size of a coin. Inscribed on Aziraphale’s skin was a single eye. It was fairly simple in design - only a simple almond shape with the iris inside. There was no color, only outlines and white space. However, the iris stood out with intricately small detail. It seemed as though something was staring straight out of Aziraphale’s hand, directly into one’s soul. 

That wasn’t what was dredging up Crowley’s worry lines, though. He was right - the eye was not something Aziraphale had gotten inked beneath his skin. With a newborn’s touch, Crowley grazed his thumb over the raised lines of the design, smoothed down with time but still slightly raised with scarring. 

Aziraphale could practically feel the burning gaze Crowley had while looking at his hand. He tried to take his hand away, to tuck it back in his lap and pretend it was nothing to be worried about, but Crowley swiftly laced their fingers together and firmly held Aziraphale to him. 

“This is a brand, angel.” 

“Yes, dear, I’m very much aware.” 

Crowley took a deep breath, as though to steady himself. 

“When did this happen?” 

Aziraphale scrubbed his face with his free hand, unable to handle the scrutiny of Crowley’s gaze. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Who did this?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Stop that.”

“I’m not-“

“You don’t need to protect anyone. You don’t need to protect me or yourself anymore. Tell me who did this.” 

“Crowley, I can’t-“ 

“Yes, you can. You don’t owe Heaven anything anymore.” 

“No, but-“

“Angel-“

“Crowley, I don’t know!” Aziraphale said suddenly, his voice pitching. He looked over at Crowley, who still held his hand in his. “Please believe me when I say that I don’t know,” he finished softly. 

The hard lines in Crowley’s face smoothed over with his angel’s words. Gently, he shifted closer to Aziraphale, so he could rest their linked fingers comfortably on his bony lap. 

“Please, talk to me, angel.” 

Feeling his resolve crumble, Aziraphale took a breath and focused his gaze on the wall opposite him. 

“It was…..a few years after our meeting in the 60s,” Aziraphale started, not wanting to directly bring up the incident with the tartan thermos and holy water. “I was assigned to some work in Southeast Asia - Vietnam and Cambodia, mostly. I was sent to focus primarily on securing peoples’ places in Heaven. Gabriel had made his directions clear; right from the start, he told me that I was limited to how many miracles I could use.”

“Prick,” Crowley interrupted sourly. 

“Quite right,” Aziraphale chuckled humorlessly, squeezing the hand still entwined in his. 

“So, you were inspiring people despite the war nearby. Then what?” 

Aziraphale clenched his jaw, before continuing. 

“I disobeyed, Crowley. I couldn’t just stand there and not help the humans.”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“The chemicals, the weapons…” Aziraphale began bitterly. “…..they were being dumped on villages and towns full of families and children, and they were so full of grief and terror and hurt. I couldn’t……” he paused, taking a breath. “I couldn’t leave them to die, Crowley. I did what I could to secure some souls, but I was so focused on healing and protecting those I could and giving others a peaceful passing that I didn’t meet the quotas Gabriel set.” 

Crowley’s eyes were wide, a yellow lightning storm passing through them. “They’re pricks, all of them. Isn’t it supposed to be your lot that cares about the humans? What happened to that?” 

Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t know, dearest. I too thought that my actions would be justified. But after only a month, I was called back to Heaven. I had exceeded my limit for miracles a thousandfold, but secured only a fraction of that number of souls. Not to mention that I have a tendency to conduct frivolous miracles outside the horrors of war.” 

“So they just…..” Crowley trailed off. 

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale continued. “They said that I had to be reminded of my overindulgence, lest it happen again. They sent me away without harming me. I thought that would be the end of it. But they sent me back to England, rather than Asia. And when I finally noticed my corporation awhile later, I realized I had this.” 

He gestured lamely at his hand, still tangled in Crowley’s. 

“I didn’t really notice it at first. I never felt anything odd, it just….appeared. It made itself known when I tried to miracle myself back to the bookshop. I went to snap my fingers, and that’s when I first noticed it. Then, lo and behold, nothing happened.”

Crowley’s eyes blazed.

“They just left you _stranded?_ Without any miracles?”

“I was already in London, dear. It just meant I had to travel the human way home.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Aziraphale started, then turned to face Crowley. He must’ve had a confused look, because Crowley continued talking. 

“I mean, I know we weren’t on the best of terms since the holy water deal, but you know I would’ve helped you. I might’ve been a bit pissy at first, but you know that I would’ve.”

Aziraphale sighed. 

“I know, dear. I suppose it was just a matter of pride. I was….embarrassed that this had happened to me, and was trying to figure out what caused it. Out of the good deeds I did in Asia, why was I being punished? I was confused and angry, and I suppose it just seemed easier to pretend that nothing was wrong, and that I suddenly wasn’t truly powerless for the first time.”

Crowley sat up a little straighter at that, and cocked his head in thought. 

“Why did they do it then? I mean, out of all the times you’ve broken the rules and exceeded the miracle count, why decide to punish you then?”

Unconsciously, Aziraphale began rubbing his thumb across the taut skin over Crowley’s knuckles. He always tended to fidget, especially when he was nervous. 

“I thought about that. I suppose they always knew that I was a bit of a loose cannon, but it started becoming more prominent around then. I was bending the rules more, indulging myself with books and food, spending far too much time with a certain hereditary enemy….” He threw a soft smile in Crowley’s direction, causing the demon to flush in a very non-demonic way. Aziraphale chuckled, then continued. “Even after the holy water incident, I suppose that Heaven realized they were losing their grip on me. Even if I hadn’t totally realized it yet, it was coming to be true.

“And I realized……the eye, the brand, it’s on my right hand. That’s the hand I use for miracles. I realized that, although I didn’t feel the pain of attaining it, I had to feel its gaze on me at all times. It’s like Heaven was constantly watching me, and it still is even now. It’s like they’re taking stock of every miracle I perform and silently judging every move I make.” 

A silence laid over the two, blanketing the bookshop for a few moments. Gently, after some time, Crowley spoke. 

“Is that why you were always looking over your shoulder? Because you never felt…truly alone?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“They don’t need to put something on me to keep track of where I am. They did it so that I’d know….so I’d always feel….” 

“You’d always feel like Big Brother was watching you.” 

The angel sighed once more, his shoulders slumped after his confession. A non-verbal affirmation. 

The two lapsed into another bout of silence, the weight of the conversation sinking into their minds. After a moment, Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Softly, he raised their conjoined hands, bringing the angel’s knuckles to his lips. 

This conversation was long overdue, Aziraphale knew that. But how was he supposed bring up his own insecurities, his own weaknesses while still not understanding them entirely himself? He didn’t want to tell Crowley that he’d used minor miracles (small enough not to garner Heaven’s attention, mind you) and, on occasion, newly-popular makeup to disguise the brand. Even though Heaven lifted their ban on miracles long before Aziraphale and Crowley’s next meeting, it was simply never something he wanted to talk about. He simply wasn’t comfortable with the types of conversations it could’ve led to. 

And it’s not that he never intended to tell Crowley about it. It just became a thing that faded into the background, much like how concealer blended the hidden marks away from view. Aziraphale had gotten so used to keeping it hidden, and finally being free of Heaven’s grasp had caused him to loosen up. He simply forgot to keep up with disguising it. 

“I can hear the gears turning in your head, angel,” Crowley said from his spot on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I know we’re not good at, you know, talking about this kind of thing, but you know that you can. With me.” 

Feeling the tension thick in the air, Aziraphale took a moment to respond. 

“My dear, when on Earth did you read _1984_?”

Evidentially not expecting that from his angel, Crowley let out a surprised bark of laughter. 

“I get around. Always full of surprises, me,” Crowley said with a slight grin in his words. 

And just like that, the room was softer. It was like how something charged would feel, after suddenly losing all its static electricity through a shock. The air was warm, and Aziraphale was comfortable. Crowley was with him, laying his head on his shoulder and giving him the space and strength to be brave. He was with the one being he trusted most in the universe. The angel knew he could place his heart in the demon’s hands.

“My love…” Aziraphale started tentatively. “What did I do to deserve this?” 

Crowley lifted his head to meet his gaze. 

“Nothing, angel. You know that nothing you did warranted this kind of punishment.” 

Aziraphale breathed out shakily, suddenly very interested in the woodwork of the ceiling above them. 

“I thought……I thought for a long time that punishments like this only existed in Hell,” he said softly, gesturing at Crowley’s tattoo. “I don’t mean to be brash, darling, but I was foolish and naive. And Crowley -“ he paused, taking a another unnecessary breath. “I know they were just humans, but I couldn’t stop myself. They were suffering and so afraid, and oh, Crowley, the children-“ 

“They were in pain, and you did what any angel should’ve done,” Crowley interrupted gently. “Anyone who values quotas and numbers over peoples’ lives can’t be as heavenly as they claim.”

Aziraphale nodded weakly. “I spent so long trying to justify my actions to myself, telling myself that I did what I thought was right. But then I’d see that blasted eye and I’d remember that I’m always going to be Heaven’s bastard angel. Not that it upsets me much nowadays, but back then….” He trailed off. 

Crowley smiled then, before pressing that smile softly to Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“Good thing that the bastard angel found Hell’s shittiest demon,” he said with a hint of remedial humor. 

Aziraphale let out a breathy laugh, and Crowley squeezed their entwined hands again. 

“But seriously, angel, you know that you shouldn’t have to justify doing good deeds. Heaven was wrong, and Gabriel is a massive prick. You did what you knew what you had to do to protect those people. Isn’t that what being a Principality is all about? Protecting?” 

Blinking furiously to clear his definitely-not-glistening eyes, Aziraphale nodded. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Protect humans, protect you….” He gazed up at Crowley. 

Demons weren’t able to feel love like angels could. Crowley never could, and he knew he never would truly be able to. However, seeing the look of utmost adoration and trust in Aziraphale’s eyes showed him more than he’d ever need for the rest of his immortal life. 

“And now you can. No one is standing over your shoulder anymore, no one’s keeping track of the miracles you use. And because of that, I know we’re better off. The humans are, too. No one to stop you from spreading all the goodness you want,” Crowley continued. 

Aziraphale sniffed, before breathing out what sounded like a laugh. “No one to stop me but my wily old serpent, right?” 

“Oh, yes. I could’t have you spreading too much goodness. I might not have quotas to fill anymore but that won’t stop me from getting in the way.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, and planted a kiss on Crowley’s temple, directly over his tattoo. 

“And you know…” Crowley continued, his eyes lighting up. “There’s nothing like having a constant reminder that we outdid our bosses.” He gestured down at Aziraphale’s hand and his newfound brand. “See? Heaven tried to put a muzzle on you, but they couldn’t keep it on forever.” 

“And Hell, too, attempted to keep you on the ground.” Aziraphale nudged the inked snake gently with his nose. “But they couldn’t. My brave, handsome demon didn’t allow it.” 

Crowley gave a great sigh of fake exasperation. 

“Angel, you are a massive sap.” 

“You like it, though,” Aziraphale replied. 

Crowley smiled, then laid his head back down on his angel’s shoulder. 

“Yes, I do.” 

They sat there together, entwined in comfortable silence. The tension that previously poisoned the air had dissipated as if it had been released through a slowly-leaking balloon. The late afternoon sun shone softly through the bookshop windows, and both beings sat, completely engulfed in the warmth of their love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤️
> 
> If you liked this story, I would love to hear from you. I have two other Good Omens WIPs sitting in my computer, and I have no idea if anyone would even be interested in me posting them. If you like my writing style or just want to hear more from me, leave a comment and I might just come back with more goodies for y'all :)
> 
> Much love,  
> ~LM


End file.
